


It's (Not) Okay

by SydneyFlaire



Series: Bayani Universe [29]
Category: Goyo: Ang Batang Heneral (2018)
Genre: Alternate - Freeform, Brothers, Funeral, Last words, Lost - Freeform, Modern, eulogy, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydneyFlaire/pseuds/SydneyFlaire
Summary: We all know the history and legend of the Boy General who've died at Tirad Pass more than a hundred years ago, and his accomplishments at such a young age is one that had been thrust to him due to the world wherein he lived in. But it doesn't mean that it is okay. It is, after all, never okay.





	It's (Not) Okay

**Author's Note:**

> The sixteenth one-shot as part of the #GoyoAngstStories.  
> You can also see my works on wattpad and fanfiction as "SydneyFlaire".  
> Follow me on twitter @JerseyLeigh for more updates.

If one will look back, it is actually not the lost of the dead that they were gone in the world. It wasn’t because the dead had lost too much or their dreams were corrupted by Death. But those who’ve lived on past the loss of a loved one is way bigger, because life continued on after.

Each of them gathered has something to mourn on their own. But even their regrets and tears will not even revive the young man already cold and lifeless inside the coffin he was enclosed in.

They said that he was to be heralded as a hero. It was evident on the flag that was draped on. They said that he, a soldier, had died on battle. It was visible with the presence of other soldiers—and even the _president_ —to visit the wake on the last day. They said that he left the world in a gruesome way. It could be seen and felt by the way that the coffin was firmly closed.

The president’s hands closed into tight fists as he tried to remain dignified. It was only customary for him to be there, but also to pay tribute to the dead. But the dead was more than a soldier. For him, he was more than that. For him, he was also his favored general. One that he had treated to be more than a chess piece or card in a deck. For he had treated him as well as a son.

His younger sister remained next to him, trying to conceal her own tears the same way that the young woman few meters away from her does. Of course, no one from them has the right to do so since neither was the promised future, but they have the privilege. It might be true that once before, they were loved by the same person. Just in a different time. Just in a different magnitude. But it was time to move on; since no one had worn the ring, or was acknowledged by a kiss with a vow.

It was visible among the soldiers who were closest to the dead. They were those who kept their heads lowered, and bit their lips to hide a whimper. Their eyes would trail on to that tricolored flag that their leader doesn’t only considered to be his own, but as theirs as well. A few years ago, they were talking about him with great respect for what he had done for them, for their province, and for their country. They heralded him for his accomplishments. But now, their respect soared much more. It was a mistake for them that only a few were selected, when all of them were so eager to come along with the fight and die with their general until the end.

If there was someone who had shed too much tears already, still unsure of what happened, two people do so, except the very family. The two of them who couldn’t still believed it, for one was guilty for being not there and the other was for not being able to do anything.

Both of them were expected to say something. As a representative of the family, and the other for the rest of the survivors and of the brigade. The president decided to be opted out for words leave him before he could speak.

But as the two of them stood to acknowledge everyone, no one from them has the strength to speak first. The silence ensued for a few more before Vicente began, stammering, “Putangina kasi itong si Goyo…” Just saying the name made him stop abruptly, and he chewed the inside of his mouth as the tears started to blur his vision. He couldn’t really do continue as he pressed his hands against his eyes in shame and guilt. “Tangina…”

Julian, standing next to him, instantly closed his arms around Vicente. His own tears falling in succession at the thought that his younger brother was gone, and that Vicente, who was there, remained traumatized with the events and had been way too guilty that thoughts of killing himself had been one that he had revealed to him a few days ago. He might have lost his little brother, indeed, but he also knew that he— _all_ of them—must remain strong because his brother would hate seeing them like this.

The casual observer of the present looked on, watching the scene unfold. He was so certain that at that moment, a shimmer of white appeared to close his own arms onto the two crying. A small smile on his face as he whispered something that he was so sure only he had heard: _“Pasensya na, Kuya. Enteng. Magiging maayos lang ang lahat.”_

He smiled sadly when the ghostly shimmer turned to him, and he muttered to respond, “Maraming salamat sa iyong pagmamahal sa bansang ito.”

He looked up, watching the flags of the oppressors be lowered and finally let the sun and the three stars be hoisted, with tears on the corner of his eyes. The view in front of him vanished as it was replaced by a crowd of people heading to school or to work or to home as it had been uncommon to see an eagle circle the sky of the city; but there it was, still doing its duty of protection.

He mumbled, “Magpahinga ka na, Aguila.”


End file.
